


begging for forgivness

by Soda_Pop



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley talks to god, M/M, Mutual Pining, Resentment, a bit of self hatred, also crowley is mess and is trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soda_Pop/pseuds/Soda_Pop
Summary: “I want to let him know it's okay. I want to tell him, with all sincerity, 'we're safe, we can be happy together. We can drop these walls of professionalism'. And I can't. It's not true. No matter how much I want it to be." And it's all because of you, he desperately wanted to add. But when you're asking someone for a favor, it's not tradition to curse them out in the process.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	begging for forgivness

**Author's Note:**

> the inspiration for this came from this tumblr post (really wonderful fanart): https://10yrsyart.tumblr.com/post/190093096297/what-i-learned-i-rejected-but-i-believe-again-i
> 
> also this edit of Take Me To Church by hozier: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoMqBq9Ju9k&list=PLSn8LeYsKyx9v3aTv2Slvtqm3eCHSm6zI&index=1

[1958, House of St. Barnabas Chapel]

Even looking at the building his eyes started to burn.

He practically dragged his feet on the pavement, having to remind himself why he was there in the first place. 

The Chapel was empty and Crowley was glad of that. The sun had gone down hours ago. Moonlight shone through the stained glass. A long, red carpet rolled down the middle, all of it leading to the center piece, a decorated crucifix. It depicted Jesus pinned against it, his eyes closed and in a peaceful rest. It was where everyone looked. It was where you looked when you did service. It was where you looked when you prayed. And in Crowley’s case, it was where you looked when you asked for forgiveness. 

His right foot ghosted over the floor (it would hurt, he  _ had _ to let it hurt).

He took his first step in. Then his second, third, fourth. He pictured his skin peeling off, his human flesh burning from the violation (it was, it had to be). 

Crowley kept his eyes and head forward. He couldn't worry about the repercussions- he never had before. It was the second time in his life that he walked down the aisle for Aziraphale, but he needn't remind himself of that.

“Oh, God.” He said to himself, barely whispering, his demeanor threatening to break. Was this his eternity? Would he ever leave this building, or spend the rest of time walking down this strip of carpet?

The moonlight focused on him.

He didn’t know if he would be heard, he thought as he reached the end. But a demon walking into a church in attempts to talk to God, well, that must grab Her attention.

“I don’t know what to say to you, now that I’m really here.”  _ What did I do to lose your love? A few words, a few questions. How could you have expected me to follow blindly, when you gave no reason for me to do so? Is it because you favoured those that didn't disagree? They were just the ones too scared to say it. _

“It hurts to walk on this floor.”

He looked up, highest he could. He mustered up all of his remaining belief, all of his hope, and held it close. “I know the words of a demon are not worth your time. I am not here to beg for salvation or to be risen. I know I don’t deserve that.

“What I’m begging for, and  _ I am _ begging, is instead for the forgiveness of another. One that has not fallen, not yet. All that’s standing between him and Hell is your approval." Silence in return.

The night of the bombing, that's when he decided to do this. 

Crowley had a knack for falling. But it was okay. It didn't matter if he was in it alone, if he would never be Aziraphale's world. It didn't matter if sharing a glass of wine was only sharing a glass of wine, and not anything more. It didn't matter if his life couldn't go on without Aziraphale, but Aziraphale could go on without him. Because a demon could reach out for salvation, but an angel could never pick him up.

He would've been okay with light chatting and occasional lunches and drinks shared from opposite sides of the room for the rest of time (if he was lucky to have him that long). At least Aziraphale would never have to be in Crowley's position.

But Crowley fucked up that night. Horribly.

He did one of the most traitorous, faithless acts in that single moment. Every mission he's completed for Hell, every evil deed he's carried out could not compare to the  _ immense _ evil he committed that night.

He got Aziraphale to fall in love with him.

Crowley remembered offering him a lift home that night. He remembered trying to keep his eyes on the road. He caught out of the corner of his eye, as Aziraphale fiddled with the bag in his lap. He couldn't look away when Aziraphale smoothed his hand over the handle and locked eyes with him. He couldn't breathe.

“I have done many wrongs.” He admits, back to his current reality, “I have rebelled and lost my grace in the process. I have tempted humans into ungodly acts. I have tricked the wealthy and the poor. I have hurt both sinners and saints. I am nowhere near holy, and I know this. And, against all reason, I have managed to fall in love with whom I believe to be the holiest angel in Heaven.”

He didn’t dare look down at that point. His shoes may have been burned through, maybe his feet gone entirely. “I cannot name someone more important to me. Each time I’m with him, I feel as though the entire world could disappear. I wouldn’t care if it did- The ground could collapse, the buildings could fall, the stars could crash. All of mankind's creations could be destroyed. All the wonderful music I’ve heard, every instrument gone. The sky could become pitch black, breaking apart and destroying the view that artists have been trying to capture for millennia.

“And if that did actually happen, if the Earth started to crumble beneath my feet, it would take one look into his eyes for me to be okay once more."

He trudged his feet a little closer, off of the carpet and less than a meter away from the crucifix. If he were to die right then, he'd take his death head-on. It was what he deserved, for he was God's most wretched possession.

Crowley descended, going down on both of his knees. He didn’t know what he was looking at- what he was  _ doing _ anymore. He didn’t know if She was actually listening. Tears threatened to spill and yet he refused, as to cry with or without God present would be an embarrassment nonetheless.

“I want to let him know it's okay. I want to tell him, with all sincerity, 'we're safe, we can be happy together. We can drop these walls of professionalism'. And I can't. It's not true. No matter how much I want it to be."  _ And it's all because of you _ , he desperately wanted to add. But when you're asking someone for a favor, it's not tradition to curse them out in the process.

"And…" He thought of Aziraphale's face when he saved the books. That face could tear down worlds, Crowley knew. It could bring apart a nation. It could give a whole new purpose to something with no potential. He knew, because he was victim to it.

"There I am, scum of the Earth. Kicked out of Heaven, and he waits for me."

"It’s like a pit in my chest," Crowley breathes. "A terrifying, bottomless pit, and I can't cork it."

The pain had stopped a while back. Curiously, he looked down and saw his flesh intact. 

The church was quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> heyy this was something i wrote last year but revised today :) thank you for reading !


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